


love letters and boy problems

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Minor Adam/Shiro - Freeform, Minor Keith/Lotor, Mutual Pining, To All The Boys I've Loved Before AU, Very Minor Allurance, it's a nice world without homophobia, may or may not follow the movie more or less faithfully, teen romcom stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Shiro is the golden boy of the school and writes love letters in his spare time. He never thought those letters would actually go out.





	love letters and boy problems

**Author's Note:**

> what is an original au i don't know her
> 
> anyways this is all thanks to a certain discord server, y'all are enablers and ilu

Nobody who sees Takashi Shirogane for the first time would expect that superhero-body and cocky grin to contain a romantic soul. He’s a victim to the expectations of society as everyone else is: he’s a jock, a football captain, listens to his team, looks like something carved from stone by the gods and smiles like an angel. People expect him to participate in locker room talk, people expect him to dance around cheerleaders and grope under their skirts like all the other boys do.

 

People expect him to ditch school for smoking or weed and kiss girls and girls and girls.

 

Nobody knows of the love letters Shiro writes over the years, the ones he keeps hidden in that little box unders his bed. To all the boys who have made his heart lurch, made his soul sing.

 

To the boy who smiled at him in summer camp and told him he could throw a ball so well, James with the pretty brown eyes.

To the boy who danced with him in prom and made him laugh, Lance with the quick feet and even quicker humour.

To the boy who stole his first kiss during a silly game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, Keith with the pretty hair and long legs.

To the boy next door who ended up dating Shiro’s twin brother, sweet, determined Adam with a sense of humour Shiro no longer recognizes.

 

None of these letters Shiro ever sends. They don’t need to know. It’s just to pour out his emotions, tell those boys how he felt at the time, as a eight-year-old, at fourteen, at ten, at sixteen. None of those boys need to know: Shiro has his reputation, his friends (well, friend, he likes his teammates fine enough and hangs out with them but Matt is the only one who hangs out with him for _him_ ) and a perfectly happy life.

 

He hides away his longing for love in the letter box, sealed shut with a pretty red ribbon, tucked under his bed. Those letters are his little secret, his bleeding heart on the pages of different colours - Adam got gentle blue, Keith got white with fiery red frames and so forth. It seems like a lot of effort for something only Shiro is ever going to see, but writing all of his feelings down on paper makes him feel at ease.

 

Like he can finally look at Adam kissing his brother and just think of him as the friend he used to be.

 

Well. Not yet. Soon.

 

Meanwhile, it’s completely alright for Shiro to imagine himself as a hapless romantic hero, unknowledgeable in the ways of love, falling into the arms of his lover - who lately tends to be Adam, but has also been all those other boys he’s written his unsent letters to.

 

Nobody needs to know. Not even his twin Ryou and especially not his nosy little brother Sven, always sticking his fourth grader nose where it doesn’t belong. Shiro loves them both to bits and knows they love him, but siblings are always siblings. He doesn’t have to tell them or their dad anything too deep if he doesn’t want to.

 

God no.

 

Shiro loves their widowed father Hiroshi with all of his heart, remembers to give him a hearty hug in the morning and ignore Hiroshi’s grumbling about it. But Hiroshi is one foot stuck in tradition, one half of his brain stuck in the past where their mother was still alive and he just doesn’t quite get it. Shiro has never made it clear to his father that he’s gay and Hiroshi has never asked. They just kind of are what they are.

 

And what they are is a team.

 

Even now, as they prepare for Ryou’s inevitable departure to Scotland for his studies, even now Hiroshi stays a silent, stoic support for them and Shiro is eternally grateful for that.

 

What Shiro is not grateful for, however, is overhearing Adam’s despair when Ryou promptly breaks up with him on their yard.

 

“It’s for the best,” Ryou says in the darkening evening, his mouth a thin line. “I’m going away for two whole years.”

 

“That doesn’t -” Adam snaps his mouth shut. He adjusts his glasses, a nervous habit of years before. “I see.” That’s all he says. I see.

 

Shiro hides in his room when Ryou comes back inside, can’t quite reach a decision on what to feel when Ryou comes to his room.

 

“Fuck,” Ryou says.

“Fuck,” Shiro agrees and pulls his twin to his arms, ignores Ryou’s grumbling and squeezes him tight. Ryou shivers.

 

Together they tell Sven, who grumbles and audibly misses Adam - as Adam was his favourite gaming partner - but reaches up to Ryou’s bicep and pats it. And says, with all the wisdom of a fourth-grader: “Time will heal all wounds.”

 

Shiro bites back a snicker.

 

Their father takes the news, as he takes all the news, with a grunt. His hugs are rare, but his words are rarer so Ryou doesn’t seem too offended. Shiro still makes sure to hug Ryou extra-hard once they finally see him off at the airport, on his way to his college and to a new chapter in his life.

 

“I’ll miss you loads,” Shiro huffs against Ryou’s cheek.

“You too,” Ryou says and inhales deep. He tugs Sven and Hiroshi into a group hug, gets enough pats on the back to last him a lifetime. “Bye then,” is what Ryou says instead of a goodbye.

 

Hiroshi subtly wipes his eyes. Sven sniffles. Shiro smiles instead. He knows Ryou won’t turn around because that’s not him. Ryou is the one going onwards, head held high.

 

*

 

The car ride to school next day is startingly quiet. Sven’s usual chatter has quietened down, instead he’s tapping furiously on his phone and Shiro is staring out of the window. Ryou has been by his side for every single moment of his life so far and although they certainly keep secrets from each other - like Shiro pining for Ryou’s now ex-boyfriend - Shiro knows he can always trust Ryou to have his back.

 

Shiro’s mind drifts to the box with the red ribbon and the four secrets it holds within. He bites his lip to prevent a smile. Something warm spreads from his heart, making his cheeks bloom. Those letters are his heart, put on paper over many years, ever since he looked at a boy and knew he was in love.

 

He sighs, deeply. He waves his goodbyes to Sven who flashes a grin.

 

A few roads and few turns to Shiro’s own high school, already buzzing with activity and Shiro takes off his seatbelt.

“You do good out there, son,” Hiroshi says as he pulls to the side of the road.

“Always do, dad,” Shiro says and flashes a grin before heading out. At least soon he won’t have to hitch a ride with his dad: his car is soon fixed enough that he can get it back. It’s not his fault the lamppost was in the way.

 

“What’s up, Shirogane!”

“Hey, it’s Shiro!”

“Yo, Shirogane!”

 

Claps on the back, high fives, fistbumps. Shiro shrugs off his letterman jacket and waves to various teammates and classmates, tries not to let his smile quiver too much when some of those stares and smiles turn a little hotter to his liking. Oh, he’s kissed a few to keep up appearances, kissed more than a few when he had thought they could be like the boys the letters are for. Yet none are.

 

Speaking of boys -

 

“Takashi Shirogane.”

 

Sigh. “Lotor.” Instantly Shiro’s good mood evaporates. His former best friend’s perfect eyebrow is raised, arms crossed. As usual, Lotor looks impeccable and sleek, a little like a supervillain. His white hair - apparently natural but it certainly wasn’t white when they were still best friends - is tied in a high ponytail. His smirk is smug.

“Pulled on the first thing you found from the floor again, did you, Shiro?” Lotor’s gaze drops to Shiro’s scuffed, ragged sneakers, climbs up his ripped jeans to his beloved letterman.

 

So what if Shiro’s white t-shirt has a little hole in it. So what if his jeans aren’t artfully ripped like Lotor’s, but instead ripped because Shiro’s been wearing them for the past decade?

 

Shiro huffs and pushes his hands to his jacket-pockets. “We’re not in fourth grade anymore, Lo. Can we let -”

 

Lotor’s eyes narrow. “Never. Anyway, you’re making my eyes sore. Care to wash your clothes next time, lest you look like a homeless man.”

 

Unwanted irritation crawls up Shiro’s spine. Lotor was always a little odd, but he could be charming, fabulous, friendly. This animosity got old a year ago. “Move on, Lotor.”

 

“Yeah, move on,” says a new voice. Matt has to reach a bit to wrap his arm around Shiro’s broad shoulders, but he manages. Matt always manages: there’s a reason he’s taken over the mantle of Shiro’s best friend and has done so with pride. His grin is cocky, his gaze sharp. He looks at Lotor from head to toe, making Lotor visibly bristle.

 

“Don’t you look like a goofy supervillain. Oh no, someone call James Bond, there’s a villain on the lose!”

 

Lotor’s eyes narrow dangerously.

 

Shiro bites back a smile. He nudges Matt with his elbow. “Stop it.”

 

Matt withdraws his arm, shrugs. “It’s what dear Lo-lo deserves. Doesn’t he?”

 

“Don’t you-” Lotor starts, but then the hallway echoes with the sound of heavy footsteps, a leather-clad shadow slinks close to Lotor, a pretty face appears over Lotor’s shoulder.

 

“Hi,” whispers Keith, eyes dark.

 

Lotor softens, turns to give his boyfriend a lingering kiss.

 

Shiro tries not to let it bother him. Why would it? Keith is no one.

 

Except Keith is certainly someone: he’s grown quickly from the awkwardness of his pre-teen years, has filled out in a way that does funny things to Shiro’s insides. Keith keeps his black, silky-smooth hair long, lets it curl over his ears, paints his nails black and always wears a thin silver chain under his shirt. Even those small black plugs in his ears and the numerous silver earrings on his left one whisper: I’m dangerous, I’m effortlessly cool. Don’t you want to test the waters?

 

That was Keith Kogane even at ten, his thick black hair was a mess and he had scraped knees. His lips on Shiro’s were so soft.

 

Shiro swallows. That was then. This is now. Keith is no one. He murmurs something into Lotor’s ear and watches him walk, then offers a little smile and a shrug to Shiro and Matt.

 

“Sorry. He gets pissy without his favourite soy latte. You know how it is.”

 

Keith’s eyes are so pretty.

 

Shiro sighs. “Bye, Kogane.”

 

“Bye, Shirogane.”

 

Matt snorts as Keith saunters off, confident like a young lion. “God, those two sure are something. Let’s just go do something fun. Like eat. Or you can help out with my science project.”

 

“Or homework?”

 

“Bad joke, Shiro, bad joke.”

 

***

 

Football is easy. Football makes sense. It’s the one thing that lets Shiro just be. He’s the brawn, the brains, the heart and soul of this team. They lean on him, their leader. They jokingly call him Chief, the boss, the bossman, offer him salutes that make him squirm.

 

Shiro leaves his teammates’ loudness behind after practice and makes his way to the bleachers, to the solitary figure of Adam.

 

Adam offers him a little smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey,” he says and tugs off one of his earbuds. He brushes chocolate-brown strands from his forehead.

 

“Hey.” Shiro takes a seat next to him, bumps their knees together. Together they look at the field. “How are you?”

 

Adam shuffles. “I - did you know? Did you know he was going to - “ Adam sighs. “It doesn’t matter even if you knew.”

 

Shiro pats his shoulder. “I didn’t. You know Ryou. We might be twins and share most of our lives together but he always barges on ahead. I guess he didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

 

“I guess.” Adam looks resigned. Sounds resigned. His glasses are a little crooked. He adjusts them with a little frown.

 

Shiro watches him. Here’s Adam, the one Shiro saw for the first time over two years ago: when Shiro hadn’t quite started filling out into his young muscles just yet, when Adam’s family had moved into the neighbourhood. That was then: Adam of the warm smile and warm brown eyes. This is now: Shiro’s heart warm at the sight of him, head bowed.

 

“Are we cool?” Shiro nudges him carefully.

 

Adam huffs. “I should be asking you that.”

 

“You were my friend first before you were Ryou’s boyfriend. We’re cool.” Shiro smiles. “Now gimme that earbud.”

 

**

 

What Shiro doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. This is what Sven thinks as he takes out the box with the red ribbon. He’s seen his big brother so often with this box, so often with his head bowed down over a letter, carefully scribbling words in his neat handwriting.

 

Sven has seen Shiro sighing about Adam often enough. Sven has, to his own shame, taken out a couple of the letters and skimmed through them, eyes widening at the outpour of romantic love. Sure, some of them are dated years back, but still. This is the part of Shiro that he never shows to them.

 

A devious idea pops into Sven’s head.

 

No, no. He shouldn’t. He quickly pushes the letter box back to its place. He shouldn’t. His big brother will deal with his things the way he can.

 

**

 

Sven has forgotten all about the letter box when Shiro ushers him into his newly fixed car back at the school parking lot.

“Had a fun day at school?” Shiro asks, pulling on his seatbelt.

 

Sven grins. He’s wearing a helmet.

 

Shiro’s nose wrinkles, cheeks blooming pink. “I’m not that bad of a driver.” So what if that lamppost had been in the way. So what if his poor car has seen a few scrapes. Parking is hard.

 

Sven snorts.

The car purrs to life and Shiro sighs, presses the brake and -

 

Both boys twitch when car stops again.

Sven is barely biting back a laugh, watching something behind Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro squeezes the steering wheel, slowly turning to look.

 

There’s Keith and his shiny red motorcycle. Keith tugs off his helmet, shakes his hair and walks to Shiro, leaning down to his window.

 

“Did I just-” Shiro swallows.

 

Keith makes leaning against car doors look like an art form. “You do know the little thing called the sidemirror? And the little thing like looking before you put the car on reverse?” He’s not mocking. His voice is soft.

 

Shiro grimaces. “Uh. I. Sometimes. Mirrors confuse me.” Mirrors confuse me? Really, Shirogane?

 

The corner of Keith’s mouth twitches. He tugs a few strands of his perfect hair behind his ear. “I can see that. Can you make it out of the parking lot?” He spares a look at Sven, still wearing his helmet. “Do you need a ride, kiddo? Or do you trust your big brother?”

 

Sven is shaking with the force of his repressed laughter. “I think we can handle it,” he says finally.

 

Shiro exhales, trying to become one with the car seat. He closes his eyes and exhales deep, hoping for Keith to go back to his shiny motorcycle. Keith does, but only after he taps Shiro’s car.

“Drive safe, Shiro.”

 

Shiro. Maybe it’s just Shiro’s hopeful imagination that makes his name sound like honey on Keith’s tongue.

 

***

 

One thing’s for sure: Shiro doesn’t mind being called lame for spending a homey Saturday-evening with his baby brother, throwing popcorn at the screen in their living room and creating a massive pillow fort. They even steal a few of their father’s pillows, snickering to themselves at the tiniest frown that will surely form on Hiroshi’s face once he sees them like this. But this is their thing: Sven and Shiro’s. Sven had a tough beginning to his tiny life so Shiro’s done all he can to make it so Sven never has to feel unsafe around them.

 

Although sometimes doing so means listening to his ten-year-old baby brother telling him that he’s wasting the best years of his life, spending a nice Saturday-evening cooped indoors, wearing ratty sweatpants and a band shirt that’s so faded Shiro can no longer even tell what band it was for.

 

“But honestly, if your friends knew that this is what you like to do for fun -” Sven rolls his eyes and munches on yet another fistful of popcorn. The campy comedy on screen is mostly forgotten. Sven’s wearing mis-matched socks. “Aren’t you like the king of the school, don’t you have a reputation to uphold?”

Shiro grunts and flops on his stomach, staring at Sven. Shiro tosses a popcorn at him.

“What if I like your company, squirt. I’m perfectly happy with the way things are.” His heart lurches. It’s not entirely a lie. His little fantasies about finding his Prince Charming or Mister Darcy are harmless and not at all interfering with his fun, social high school life. That’s the way he wants it to be.

 

Sven squints at him. “Are you?”

 

“Hey, don’t question me, you little -!” Shiro attacks, soon sends his baby brother into a squirming giggling fit, Sven’s flailing leg sending the popcorn bowl flying to the floor, spraying the rest of their snack on the soft pillows and blankets.

 

“Squirt, look what you did,” Shiro chuckles, pinching Sven’s cheek.

“I thought you sports-guys had good reflexes, you could have caught that,” Sven retorts and sticks out his tongue.”

“Twerp.”

“Jock.”

 

Shiro sticks out his tongue at that, glad to see Sven laugh and ignore his interrogation. The movie is unbearably stupid, but the blanket fort is comfortable and warm. This is where Shiro wants to be on Saturday-nights, not out there partying with his teammates or watching Matt moon over Skype with his long distance girlfriend.

 

**

 

The next day dawns like the rest of them. Bright and chipper. Shiro runs in the morning, takes a tour around the neighbourhood, eats his breakfast, makes breakfast for Sven and watches Hiroshi stare grumpily into his coffee mug.

 

“Bye dad, love you.” Shiro squeezes him as a goodbye.

“Have a good day at school,” Hiroshi says. There is a hint of a smile, especially after he’s downed said coffee. “I love you too, sons.”

“Mushy,” says Sven in the car. Shiro nudges him.

 

They make it to school without incident. Shiro sits with his teammates at lunch and doesn’t look in the direction of one Keith Kogane, partly sprawled on the lap of one Lotor Oriande. To Adam Shiro gives a half-hearted wave and a little smile, unable to feel like there is still a little distance between, like to go from Ryou’s boyfriend to Shiro’s friend again takes more than just one conversation.

 

However, the day is normal, almost dull. Afternoon practice goes by swimmingly, despite Park stumbling over his own two feet and coach Iverson getting a telltale tic under his eye. As usual, Shiro stays behind to help with the clean up and then practice some moves on his own. And as usual, Matt appears with his trusted iPad under his arm and headphones looped around his neck. Matt sits on the bleachers and waves.

 

“What’s up?” Shiro jogs to him, the ball under his arm.

“Get this,” Matt begins, offers Shiro a water bottle, “Katie, my dearest darling favourite sister- “

“She’s your only sister-”

“Actually phoned me and said we should do something for our mom and dad’s anniversary. Not in those words, she said something special. I was like, what do you mean something special, we do something cool for them every year and then -”

Shiro drinks his water. He lowers the bottle after noticing how Matt trails off to stare behind him. Matt lifts an eyebrow. “What’s he doing in here?”

 

Shiro lifts the hem of his shirt to brush sweat from his face, turns while doing so - only to come face to face with Keith. As it is a hot day, Keith’s usual red leather jacket is missing and he’s only wearing his tanktop. He has even pulled his hair up into a little bun.

 

He also looks troubled.

 

“Uhm,” he says. His gaze shifts from Shiro to Matt.

 

Matt blinks. “Ohh. I see. I see.” That tone is never a good thing. He narrows his eyes but for some damn reason, he’s smirking. “Need to have a little chat, just the two of you? I’ll be out of your hair then.” He climbs down from the bleachers and pats Shiro’s sweaty bicep. “Talk to you later, Shiro.” One more inquisitive look later Matt is heading back towards the main building.

 

Shiro finally lowers the hem of his shirt, completely misses the way Keith’s eyes flicker towards his abs. “Uh. What’s - what’s up?” Despite Keith being shorter than him, somehow Shiro feels small.

 

Keith bites his lip. “Look. It’s cool and all, flattering that you feel this way, but - me and Lotor are kinda, a hard place right now. I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about that, by the way.”

 

Shiro blinks. “What?”

 

Keith frowns. “I just can’t think of anyone else right now-”

 

Shiro finally spots what Keith is holding between long, pretty fingers. A letter. An opened letter. A letter Shiro recognizes and knows intimately. Because it’s the one he wrote seven years ago: it’s as red as the hoodie Keith had worn that evening, Shiro’s handwriting childish, yet neat.

 

“Oh fuck.” Sheer, terrible panic floods through Shiro. “Oh fuck.”

 

Keith is staring at him with unfairly pretty eyes and that attractive bun and this is not happening, this is so not happening.

 

Shiro stumbles to his knees and groans. “Oh God.” He’s seen it. Keith’s seen it. Keith has read it, all the things ten-year-old Shiro had poured onto the two pages filled with neat writing. Just because of one childish little kiss. “Oh my fucking God.” He feels faint.

 

He’s faintly aware of Keith’s hand on his shoulder before it all goes black.

 

He comes to it a few moments later, blinking in the still bright sunlight. Keith’s face is hovering above his, that troubled expression still lingering.

“Dude, are you okay?”

 

Shiro groans. “Christ. Just… fuck.” Is this it? Is this how he dies? Is this how his high school life ends? He’s so painfully aware that he’s sweaty and hot, blushing a furious red that can’t be attributed just to the exercise. “Just kill me.” He sits up.

 

Keith is still holding the letter, painfully tenderly.

 

Shiro can’t even look at him. “Look, you weren’t - you weren’t supposed to see that. It’s just - “ he trails off, spotting a familiar figure approaching the field. Adam’s hair catches the light and gets a golden hue. And Adam is holding - oh God. Oh no. No no no no no. In Adam’s hand he’s clutching yet another letter, this one a light blue, embarrassingly childish baby blue. Shiro wrote that barely over a year ago. He still remembers what he wrote.

 

Goddammit but he wishes he didn’t.

 

“Fuck,” he says.

“That’s…. Adam, right?” Keith squints at Adam’s direction. Adam has stopped, clearly uncertain if he should come closer.

 

Shiro gathers the pieces of his courage. “Sorry.” He grabs Keith by his warm, black tanktop and pulls him into a kiss: it’s not a good kiss by any chance, but it’s a warm one, a deep one. Shiro flops back down on the ground, pulling Keith with him. Keith flails, his palms like two hot spots pressed on Shiro’s chest.

 

“Uhhhhh,” Keith says as he pulls himself up. There are two pink spots on his cheeks.

 

Shiro swallows. He glances behind Keith, watches Adam vanish back to the main building, shoulders hunched. “I just- I really - didn’t - I - I owe you an explanation, it seems.”

 

Keith gets off him, gets up and offers his hand. Shiro doesn’t take it. And runs away like a coward, face burning.

 

His life, as he knows it, is over.

 

He runs straight back to the main building, stumbles through the doors and into a few of his classmates, shouts out a quick sorry before going off again. With his stamina he can keep on running and running but now he stops once he reaches the nearest toilet. He slams the door of the stall after himself, slumps down on the toilet seat and groans.

 

If both Adam and Keith have seen their letters… what about the other two? Are they about to think Shiro has the hots for them because of a smile or a nice word or a warm hand on his arm?

 

And Keith… Shiro had kissed him like a dumbass out of sheer panic, practically assaulted the poor guy in broad daylight and probably freaked the shit out of him for good. Not to mention ruining his chances with Keith for good.

 

And what was that about him and Lotor having some kind of relationship troubles?

 

Footsteps behind the closed door snap Shiro out of it. The shoes that stand behind his door are bright blue and stylish.

 

“Shiro, are you there?” Thankfully it’s not Adam or Keith or God fucking forbid, Lotor, but - a letter is carefully placed on the recently scrubbed floor.

 

Shiro’s heart sinks. It’s an electric blue one, scribbled after a particularly nice prom evening, filled with boisterous laughter and pranks.

 

“I see you got yours too, Lance.” Shiro hides his face behind his hands. “Dammit. You guys were never supposed to see those.”

 

Lance huffs. “If it makes you feel any better, buddy, I didn’t read it. Well, not entirely. It just seemed more like something that belongs in a diary than a letter.”

 

Slowly Shiro removes himself from the toilet seat and opens the door, coming face to face with Lance’s attempt of a comforting smile. Lance offers him the letter back. “I think you should take it back. I mean, I had a nice time at the prom too, don’t get me wrong but - you do know I’m straight, right?”

 

Shiro blushes. Oh fuck. He is? Wait, Lance is straight? “O-of course. Of course I did.” He quickly snags the letter back.

 

Lance huffs. “Seems like you’re going through something, buddy.” Amiably he pats Shiro’s bicep. “Whatever it is, you seem like the kind of a guy who has his shit together or is at least good enough to put it together. Right?”

 

Shiro holds the letter against his chest. “Yeah.” As long as James Griffin doesn’t show up too to ask after him. As long as Keith doesn’t hold that kiss against him. As long as Adam- oh fuck. Adam lives next door. “I try.”

 

“See? Already thinking positive.” Lance wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Anyway, I gotta dash but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You looked super upset and it’s so not like you. I mean, you’re more mature than most of the student body combined.” He shrugs. “Me included.”

 

Shiro huffs. “Don’t hold me on a pedestal. I’m just much of a mess as everyone else.”

 

Lance nudges him. “A mess with some nifty biceps. You and me gotta share some work out tips someday, man. Anyways, let’s bump into each other later!” He dashes off like the whirlwind he is before Shiro can get in another word.

 

**

 

Back at home, the first thing Shiro does is to check under the bed.

 

The red box isn’t there. Shiro’s jaw clenches. Calm down. Calm down. I am calm. He inhales and exhales deeply, slowly. Maybe he just misplaced it and somehow the letters just, maybe, mailed themselves. Shiro digs through the mess under his bed. He digs through his wardrobe. He even barges in Ryou’s room, way neater than his own and knocks on Sven’s.

 

Asking his father only yields confusion. “You know I don’t keep track of your things, son,” Hiroshi murmurs from behind his newspaper, a worried little wrinkle between his thick eyebrows.

“Sorry,” Shiro huffs and squints at the back of his little brother’s head. Sven’s shoulders are hunched.

“Nope, haven’t seen it,” Sven shouts back but doesn’t turn, too into his videogame.

 

Shiro leaves it at that.

 

Maybe he had sleepwalked and found stamps and - no. How could this happen? How is Shiro able to go to school now? He’s certain Lance won’t tell anyone of the letter, but Adam’s expression had seemed strange. And Shiro, in all honesty, only knows Keith by his less than savoury reputation. Except that reputation could be bullshit high school rumours: how could a guy with such a pretty face be mean. Shiro’s certain that if Keith’s ever been a dick, he’s had good reason for it.

 

With these thoughts swirling in Shiro’s head, he makes his way back towards the campus and to the student-favoured café right across the street. The chipper girl behind the counter makes his order - Frappuccino with extra chocolate chips - and he seats himself in the window seat to mope and drink it.

 

James Griffin had had such deep chocolate-brown hair that baby Shiro had desperately wanted to touch it.

Lance had cracked enough jokes that had made Shiro laugh out loud.

Keith hadn’t minded a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven with strange kids and had kissed Shiro with all the force of a determined ten-year-old.

Adam had been his friend and had shared his music taste.

 

All four had had something that had made Shiro’s heart sing. And now all four know.

 

Shiro groans and stares miserably into the swirling chocolate chips in his mess of sugary coffee.

 

“If everyone looks as miserable as you do when drinking that thing, I’m not certain why anyone actually ever orders it,” a familiar voice says from his left side.

Shiro doesn’t have to look to know it’s Keith but he does anyway: Keith is sipping a pink monstrosity, eyes twinkling with amusement. Keith’s hair is pulled into a bun and his t-shirt has a logo belonging to some band Shiro doesn’t know. But his plugs have a galaxy design to them and through his ripped jeans Shiro can see a peek of a tattoo on Keith’s thigh.

 

For some reason that tiny peek is enough to make Shiro sweat.

 

“Why are you here? Look, I- I’m sorry I kissed you so out of the blue but I panicked.” Shiro looks back at his Frappuccino. Maybe Keith is interested in space. Nobody’s as interested as Shiro, as much of a nerd as Shiro about it - as Matt always likes to remind him - but it could still be an interest Shiro and Keith share. Shiro feels oddly warm, despite his cold drink.

 

Keith leans against the counter and slowly and methodically sips his drink. “I came for a milkshake.” His mouth twitches. “Also, I saw you run here so I decided to corner you.” His cheekbones, high and noble, are tinted pink. “You ran away from me before I could ask anything specific, so -”

 

Shiro squirms. “Look, the letter - I wrote that years ago.”

 

“I know. There was a date. That sleepover-party, right?” Is Keith mocking Shiro right now?

 

“A-and it was just - j-just - I didn’t mean to send them.”

 

Keith’s eyebrow is lifted. “Them? You mean I’m not the only one?”

 

Shiro’s neck feels unbearably hot. He slurps his Frappuccino but it doesn’t help. “I wrote four letters and somehow, someone got their hands on them and they got out.” He groans, his forehead slumping against the table. “This is a disaster. I have a plan for my high school years, you know. This wasn’t in it.”

 

Keith snorts. “Not everything goes according to plans, big guy. Is that all you’re worried about? Just the letters going out? I mean, it was sweet and all, for a ten-year-old. Who else?” He sips his milkshake.

 

Shiro glances at him. “It’s none of your business.”

 

Keith’s other eyebrow raises.

 

Shiro sighs. “They were never meant to be sent. I never even put stamps on them or anything, I just entertained the idea.” When Keith’s gaze grows sharper, Shiro blushes. “Okay, fine. There was this guy from summer camp. Then y-you. Then uh, Lance, you know Lance?”

 

“Isn’t he exclusively straight though?”

 

“D-duh. Everyone knows that.” Shiro keeps his forehead against the counter. How had he not known that? “A-and Adam.”

 

One glance tells Shiro that Keith is thinking, his head tilted like a curious puppy. “Adam? Ohhh. That Adam. You mean your brother’s boyfriend?”

 

Shiro sighs. “They broke up before Ryou left but yeah. Yeah. I know. Which is exactly how fucking awkward it’s gonna be facing Adam. I mean, him and I were good buddies before him and Ryou became a thing. Goddammit. Now he probably thinks I’m into him. At least Lance took it in a stride and I haven’t heard if James even got his but …”

 

“Hmmm.” Keith drinks all of his milkshake, licks his lips from the lingering sweetness. “That why you kissed me?”

 

Now heat travels from Shiro’s cheeks down his body. He squeezes his eyes closed. “Y-yeah. I saw Adam. It looked like he wanted to talk to me.”

 

“Damn.” Keith begins tapping the counter. His nails are painted midnight blue. His hands are like an artist’s hands - which is no wonder because often Keith is seen with a sketchbook, hunched over it or it tucked under his arm. What he draws, however, Shiro has never seen.

 

“So don’t worry, I’m not about to try to steal you away from Lotor. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.” Shiro straightens in his stool, his elbow on the counter. He looks at Keith, who looks right back.

 

“More like I’m trying to wrap my head around this. You know, I never took you for a player, Shirogane.” Keith is mocking him, that’s for sure - but Shiro does like how the name Shirogane rolls off Keith’s devilish tongue.

“Stop it! They’re just crushes! You guys were never supposed to even see them!” Shiro hisses at him, quickly swallowing down the rest of his watery Frappuccino.

 

Keith grins. He crosses his legs. He also leans against the counter, watching Shiro. “Sorry, sorry.” He leans closer, like a co-conspirator. He even lowers his voice. “You know, I have an idea. Lotor and I are broken up right now -”

 

“You’re what - “

 

“- and you don’t want Adam to think you’re still into him, right?”

 

Shiro frowns. “What are you getting at?”

 

Keith’s fingers land on his knee, tickling. “Some people saw you kiss me. They’re probably thinking you’re my rebound boyfriend.” Keith squeezes his knee. “Wanna pretend we are a thing for a while? From the sounds of it, you want Adam’s friendship back. And I want Lotor jealous.” He gives another squeeze.

 

Shiro’s heart has began to race. “Do you mean - “

 

Keith withdraws his hand and smiles, the kind of a cool smile he flicks from left to right like it means nothing to him. “Yeah. What better way to make Adam think you’re completely over him than by getting a new boyfriend? And I don’t mind being your arm candy - or having you as mine. And I know Lotor is already insanely jealous of you.”

 

“H-he is?” Shiro blinks. Rather helplessly his gaze follows the long, slender line of Keith’s body, returning back to those amused eyes. “Are you sure? I-I really need to think about this.” He leans back. “I mean, really think about this.”

 

“Take all the time you need, big guy.” Keith straightens on his stool too and shrugs. “See you at school.” He leaves with a soft little smile and a wave of hand. Shiro is left staring after him, heart still racing, skin still clammy and hot.

 

**

 

Fake dating Keith Kogane. Would Shiro have to hang out with Keith’s friends? What would Shiro’s teammates say? Is Keith’s reputation as a bad boy even accurate? They say everything and anything about everyone, Shiro himself included, but Keith walks the halls like a king and takes absolutely no shit from anyone.

 

Not even Lotor, whose father owns half of the city, who Shiro used to be best friends with before Lotor decided he preferred ruling over people instead of being friends with them. And apparently likes sticking his tongue down Keith’s throat better than talking with him, judging by the amount of arguments Shiro and the rest of the school has overheard.

 

What would fake dating even entail? Shiro’s experience with dating comes down to absolute zero. He’s never had the time or the courage, even despite the multiple offers from blushing girls and eager boys. Never the right boys.

 

But now?

 

Certainly Keith stole Shiro’s first kiss and left him breathless, certainly Shiro’s breath catches at the sight of him now. It wouldn’t be too bad to think such a boy was his boyfriend.

 

Reaching this conclusion takes Shiro most of the evening and most of the morning. He arrives to school with a new resolve and rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. He dodges a few questions, gives a few fistbumps and completely ignores Adam - which he feels guilty about - in favour of asking around for Keith’s current whereabouts. Asking Lotor, who’s currently sneering down a lower classman, is not an option.

 

Yet somehow Shiro’s pointed in the right direction, the art class, by one of those first years who usually hang around Lotor’s crowd.

 

“Okay, thanks, bye!” Shiro shouts before the kid gets another word in and heads out. Sun is high in the sky, dyeing the hallways in golden hues as Shiro  turns the right corner to the right hallway and knocks. A few words with the Art teacher, the spry and colourful Romelle and Shiro comes once more face to face with Keith. Keith has a loose t-shirt and sweatpants on and there are paint smudges everywhere. Yet his make-up is impeccable, something softening in his eyes when he sees Shiro.

 

“Made your decision, then?”

 

Shiro draws in a slightly panicked breath. He nods. His voice seems to have died on his tongue so he cups Keith’s face and leans down for a kiss, keeps it soft and light, doesn’t think about it, just goes for it like he had been wishing for another one ever since that first one.

 

Keith’s smiling when Shiro pulls back. “Down, boy.” Someone wolf-whistles from inside the classroom.

 

Shiro blushes. “Stop it. Tell me your number and we can, we can chat. Specifics.”

 

Keith does so, his pretty fingers brushing Shiro’s suddenly big and clumsy hands. “Talk to you later, Shiro.” He’s so soft. So damn soft that Shiro can’t see where to go and how to exist with this new knowledge that the ever cool Keith with the shiny, sexy motorcycle can have such a soft smile.

 

Keith has put his name and number on Shiro’s phone with a little lion-emoji next to it.

 

Back then, when they’re were ten, Keith had worn a shirt with a roaring lion head and had had a dream of becoming one. Shiro wonders what Keith’s dream is now.

 

**

 

They agree to meet by the benches, tucked underneath a large oak in far corner of the yard. Keith is already there when Shiro arrives: tapping on his phone, leather jacket resting on the bench behind him. Keith’s wearing ripped jeans and black boots again. Those fingerless gloves have to be for style, not for convention. Yet Shiro doesn’t ask, merely feels rather stuffy in his usual clothes.

 

“So,” says Keith and puts away his phone and straightens on his bench. His red hoodie makes him seem younger.

 

Shiro smiles at him and takes a seat opposite to him. Shiro clears his throat and unravels a notebook and a pencil from his bag.

 

“So. I was thinking we could lay some ground rules.”

 

Keith nods.

 

Shiro clears his throat. He writes down.

“Number one. No kissing.”

 

Keith blinks. “You seemed to have no problem doing so earlier.” The corner of his mouth is quirked up so Shiro doesn’t take his words to heart too much.

 

“I mean, it’s not like we should - I just don’t think we should.” Shiro squirms.

 

Keith shrugs. “Fine by me. The last thing I wanna do is make you feel too uncomfortable around me. You already seem -” Keith trails off. “Ah, never mind. Continue.”

 

Shiro licks his lips and swallows. He clears his throat again. “O-okay. Okay. Yea. Um. You’re welcome to like, put your hand in my back pocket.” He fiddles with his pen. “I think that’s pretty cute, right?”

 

Keith is biting his lip when Shiro glances at him. “Cute.” Keith smiles. “I can deal with that. Can I touch you otherwise? I - I like touching the people I date.”

 

Shiro swallows. Hard. “A-above the waist, please.”

 

“Yes, captain.” Keith tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. His earrings shimmer.

 

Squirming under Keith’s dark gaze seems to have become a habit. Before Shiro can suggest anything else, Keith speaks up:

“You come with me to the ski trip.”

 

Shiro blinks. His heart seems to go on overdrive again. It’s a known fact that people lose their virginities on the annual ski trip. Something that Shiro still very much has.

He’s well aware of his red cheeks. “That’s like three months away, buddy. You really think this is gonna go on for that long? I think Adam at least gets the message before that.”

 

Keith shrugs. He leans against his hand and makes it look casual and effortless. Shiro can’t decipher the look in his eyes. “Maybe. If it does, then you’re coming with. And rooming with me.”

 

Shiro tugs on the collar of his shirt. “Yeah. Obviously.

 

Keith gathers his hair into a messy ponytail and tugs on his leather jacket when the wind picks up again. But he’s not leaving. Instead he seems to think deep again.

 

“I could… um, write you notes.”

 

Shiro’s heart jumps.

 

Amusement tugs Keith’s lips. One of those unfairly elegant eyebrows lifts, just a bit. He tugs a wayward strand of hair behind his ear, almost coy.

 

“You’d do that?” Shiro swallows hard, unable to prevent himself from smiling.

 

“Sure,” Keith shrugs. “Lotor isn’t the one for small romantic gestures and believe it or not, I do think this will help make it more believable.”

 

Shiro writes down the word notes, along with three exclamation marks. “Okay. I’d like that.” If only it was for real. “Also. Important. If you or I decide to break it off, then it’s off. Okay?”

 

Keith nods. “Of course. You know, you don’t have to be so careful around me. I know what kind of a reputation I have and part of it is true, sure, but - I do care about other people. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Even though I probably already did, kinda cornering you with this whole thing.”

 

Shiro blushes. “I wasn’t insinuating you don’t care, I was just -”

 

“Just making sure we’re on the same level.”

 

Shiro nods. They share a look again, then a little smile.

 

“Good?” Keith gets up from the bench.

 

“Good.” Shiro folds the paper with their little contract in half. The wind caresses his dark hair, throws his too-long fringe on his eyes. “Talk to you later then, Keith.” Saying that name feels like a flower blooming inside Shiro’s lonely heart.

 

“Talk to you later, Shiro,” Keith murmurs and takes his leave.

 

***

Deciding to fake date Keith Kogane comes with its pros and cons. Cons so far outnumber the pros: for one, it doesn’t exactly help with the lingering awkwardness of the sheer fact that Shiro had had to admit the entire truth to Keith. That Shiro, the school’s golden boy, a jock, used to sexist locker room talk, is a virgin with a romantic heart on the lookout for his prince. That yearning had made him latch onto four different crushes, all from different places and different years but all had made Shiro feel like a nest of butterflies was fluttering around inside of him - or more like a fire had been lit under his skin.

 

Dating doesn’t also remove the fear that James Griffin had yet to show himself: as far as Shiro knows, he lives on the other side of the country now. It also doesn’t remove the awkwardness of talking with Ryou now: Shiro doesn’t know what to do about his twin, if confessing that he had held a candle for Adam for almost two years seems like a task Shiro doesn’t want to take.

 

Pros of fake dating Keith Kogane, however, are these: Keith takes an immediate shine to Sven and Sven takes an immediate shine to him. Keith apparently also drives a sleek monster of a car, jet  black with a dash of white. This means Shiro doesn’t have to drive, gets a ride out of it and Sven gets a ride out of it. Another pro is the fact that Keith is the most considerate not-boyfriend on the planet.

 

He introduces Shiro to his group of friends despite the fact that he really doesn’t have to: there’s aren’t many people at the school who don’t know Shiro, the school idol. A nickname that makes Shiro laugh and quickly change the topic to something that doesn’t concern him.

 

It appears that a few of Keith’s friends are fans of his, a fact that Keith seems a little apologetic about.

 

“I tried to warn you,” Keith says after one particularly rowdy lunch. Keith’s hand has found its way to Shiro’s backpocket, giving Shiro’s ass a little squeeze before retreating, leaving a little note in its wake.

 

Shiro rubs his warm cheek. “It’s fine. I guess I just - I just like football.” Holding hands with Keith has began to feel dangerously natural: Shiro’s hand is bigger and Keith’s hand fits in his so well.

 

“Just happen to have won the gene lottery, just happen to like working out and eating healthy at seven-fucking-teen.” Keith is lingering so close to him. “You really do eat your proteins, big guy.”

 

“That I do.”

 

Keith tugs and Shiro falls into step with him, ignoring the way his heart quivers. Generally Shiro likes to be honest with himself but now? Now he wants to forget this is fake. This isn’t real. Keith isn’t truly his boyfriend and Keith still wants Lotor back and Shiro - Shiro no longer is quite sure what he wants.

They make their way outside to the benches were they first talked about their deal. It’s become their spot. This time they don’t sit opposite to each other but next to each other, Keith snuggling close to him like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

 

“You still avoiding your brother?” Keith likes to play with Shiro’s hand. He takes it between his own and tickles, trails Shiro’s strong fingers with feather-light strokes. Shiro’s brain can’t quite keep up with anything when Keith does it: no, his brain likes to offer not safe for work mental images of another reality where this is real, there are no love letters and no Lotor and this is 100% real.

 

“I- I -  yeah. Kinda.” Shiro bites his lip. He hasn’t talked to Adam either in ages, the guilt gnawing at him. “And I’m avoiding Adam.” His good mood plummets.

 

Keith wraps his arm around Shiro’s shoulders and squeezes. “What are you going to do?” Keith never offers him advice or his opinions, merely pokes him in the right direction. Shiro can’t quite wrap his head around someone being so considerate of him.

 

“Talk to them. At some point.” Shiro sighs. “I guess I’m just embarrassed. Having the hots for Ryou’s boyfriend is one thing but that damn letter - I don’t even know what Ryou’s gonna think! Or what Adam thinks. Just when I promised him we could be friends again.” He takes his hand back from Keith and runs them over his face, through his hair, over his face again. “I’ve really messed my own situation up, haven’t I?”

 

Keith’s gentle fingers tickle his neck. “Yep.” He tugs himself closer, his cold nose pressing against Shiro’s temple. “Let’s take a selfie. Our last one got a thousand likes and a thousand comments.”

 

“That was a cute one,” Shiro hums. He had reluctantly put the same one in his own Instagram. So maybe he had put it as his phone background too, sue him.

 

“Indeed.”

 

Shiro digs out his phone and opens the app. They make faces at the camera and right at the last second, Keith kisses his cheek. The phone captures Shiro’s widened eyes and flushed cheeks, the curl of Keith’s hair under his slender jaw, the corner of his mouth turned up.

 

“Was that okay?” Keith asks, easily swiping his hair up into a ponytail.

 

Shiro’s heart stutters. “I- yes. I- I don’t mind if it’s on the cheek.” Rule one, broken. He rubs said cheek. “We’re still good for this weekend?” He takes Keith’s hand in his. Hand-holding is normal in relationships. Even fake ones like this.

 

“Of course. Mom’s excited to meet you.” Keith spreads his fingers. The daylight makes his earrings shimmer, gives an almost purple hue to his dark eyes.

 

Shiro isn’t staring. He isn’t.

“That’s nice. It’s gonna be something.”

 

“Hmmm. Well, your first relationship and your first time meeting the parents, right? Well, parent in this case.” Keith’s fingers are so long. His nails are not painted today, they look a little dry, a little chipped in place. Shiro can’t stop rubbing his thumb over Keith’s palm.

 

“Yeah. Everything you’ve told me about your mom makes her sound pretty badass.”

 

Keith laughs. “She has to be a badass to take care of me. Oh man, I was a problem child.” He shifts closer, nudges his nose against Shiro’s temple again, like an affectionate cat. “I guess I still am a little.”

 

Shiro nudges him with an elbow, is delighted to hear Keith chuckle again.

 

**

 

Keith lives a few blocks away from Shiro, so Keith, as the gentleman he’s turned out to be, comes on his motorcycle to pick Shiro up.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Keith grins as he flicks up the visor of his helmet.

Shiro’s nose wrinkles. “You don’t have to say stuff like that when it’s just the two of us.” Hot stuff. Keith called him hot stuff. And definitely checked him out. He grabs the helmet Keith tosses at him and puts it on.

“Hold on tight, Shiro. I wouldn’t want you to fall.”

Shiro huffs. “I’ve driven a motorcycle before myself, you know.” He straddles the bike, presses himself tight against his not-boyfriend.

Keith tugs Shiro’s arms around his waist and pats his hand. Keith doesn’t reply, instead just takes off.

 

The red bike - affectionately named Red or Red Lion - zooms into the slow afternoon traffic, possibly only leaving behind a red streak of lightning. Shiro feels laughter bubbling up inside, bites his lip not to let it out. He squeezes Keith as a silent thanks.

 

Keith and Shiro ride Red all the way to Keith’s neat little townhouse, tucked behind its neighbours under the protective shade of an oaktree. It seems like an oasis in the middle of a big city and Shiro immediately likes it.

 

His legs feel a little wobbly once he gets up from the bike. He takes off the helmet and ruffles his hair. “Damn.”

 

“A good damn or a bad damn?” Keith nudges him gently. Despite being smushed under the helmet, Keith’s hair manages to look perfect.

 

Shiro smiles at him, wonders if he should break his number one rule more and just kiss Keith for real. “A good damn. It’s certainly different than mine.”

 

“That it is, rich boy.” Keith leads him to the door and unlocks it, stepping into the warmth and the smell of something baking.

 

Shiro sniffs as he yanks off his sneakers, leaving the helmet where Keith shows him. Shiro’s stomach growls. “Did your mom bake something?”

 

“Oh no, kiddo. It’s all Keith.”

 

Shiro freezes, cheeks still flushed from the motorcycle-ride.

 

Keith’s mother is a taller, feminine version of her son. Her hair is long and deep purple, her legs clad in dark jeans and her arms crossed over her chest. Her smile is the same as Keith, her eyes an interesting shade of a colour Shiro can’t quite name.

 

“M-ma’am,” Shiro stutters.

 

Keith snorts. “Hi, mom.”

 

Krolia Kogane throws a calculating look at Shiro. She steps closer and she truly, honestly is as tall as him, maybe even a little taller. “So you’re the one my baby boy has been raving about.”

 

Keith clears his throat. “Mom. Can we please come in. Maybe take out the pie so it doesn’t, like, burn.”

 

Shiro offers his hand. Krolia takes it. She has a very firm handshake. “Ah, come in, boys. I’ve set the table already.” She winks at Keith who rolls his eyes. Krolia vanishes into what’s presumably the kitchen.

 

Shiro and Keith hang their jackets.

 

“You bake?” Shiro asks and squeezes Keith’s shoulder.

 

Keith’s nose wrinkles. Two adorable little pink spots dance on his cheeks. “Well, yeah. Mom’s okay in the kitchen but she doesn’t like sweet things much so she never really bothered how to cook things that are not out of a package. But I like it.” He unzips his hoodie and hangs it too, leaving only his ever-present tanktop. “I’m good with my hands, you know.”

 

Shiro hums and nods. “I’ve seen some of your art. You really are.” He smiles brightly, completely oblivious to the double entendre.

 

Keith snorts.

 

They sit down to eat the little feast Krolia and Keith have put up. Shiro fills his plate up, sniffs the air once more because now he knows what Keith had made: an apple pie, with a proper homemade crust and neatly sliced apples. It’s waiting for them under a kitchen towel.

They chat about school and Krolia tells them about her work: nowadays she’s mostly behind the desk at the police station but apparently there is a slew of other jobs and degrees behind her.

 

Krolia chews thoughtfully on her food, pushing her hair from her shoulder. “So, Shiro - your mother must have her hands full of three boys.”

 

Shiro’s fork scrapes his plate, Keith drops his knife. “Uh,” Shiro begins.

 

Keith colours. “Mom, I - I told you Shiro lives with his dad. His mom’s dead.”

 

Krolia’s lips part, a tiny wrinkle forms between her elegant eyebrows. “Oh. Oh, dammit. And here I was thinking I could do some proper smalltalk. I’m really sorry, kiddo. I remembered wrong.”

 

Shiro swallows hard. “Ah. It’s, it’s okay. It was a long time ago.” He smiles a little shakily. The fact is, that it was a long time ago - but it still doesn’t mean that Shiro doesn’t miss her. Or miss the lack of her, especially when his father gets into one of his moods.

 

Keith squeezes Shiro’s knee.

 

“I should know better too, God knows I was snappy when Heath died and anyone tried to bring it up - “ Krolia sighs. She tosses a soft look at the row of framed photos hanging from the wall. A tall man grins proudly next to Keith and Krolia in many of them. “And now I made it awkward. Good job, Krolia.”

 

Shiro’s shoulders relax. “It’s fine, really. Keith’s told me some of his dad. He seemed like a good guy.”

 

“He was,” Keith murmurs and pokes into his food. “Anyway! Change of subject! Mom, why don’t you tell Shiro about our last hiking trip, yeah?”

 

So she does, clearly eager to go from talking about the dead to talking about the living. Krolia even twirls one of her long purple strands around her fingers and gestures wildly when describing how her and Keith had only narrowly managed to escape from a den of wolves.

 

“It was like two,” Keith stage-whispers to Shiro who snickers.

 

From the food they go to dessert. Krolia pours herself a glass of white wine and gestures even more wildly. Not once does she interrogate Shiro on his intentions about her son. Yet Shiro still ends up feeling like she’s calculating his worth.

 

They still usher her back to her paperwork after dinner and clean the table by themselves.

 

“I’m really sorry she said that,” Keith murmurs as he rinses the plates. “I did tell her but I guess her head’s so swamped with work she misheard.”

“It’s fine, really:” Shiro pats Keith’s shoulder. “I guess I just tend to forget myself, you know? I mean, we hadn’t even adopted Sven yet so it was just me and Ryou. I mean, I remember mom and all but it was years ago. I think it hit dad the hardest. He hasn’t really been the same since.”

 

Keith still looks troubled. “Do you miss her?” His movements of loading the dishwasher are mechanical. His heart is not in it. Shiro likes to think Keith’s heart is with him instead.

 

“Of course. But still - it’s been long enough that there are days, maybe even weeks when I live my life the way I want to and I don’t think about her at all. Is that bad of me?”

 

Keith shakes his head. He lays his hand on Shiro’s arm. “Of course it isn’t. I didn’t know your mom but if she was anything like you, she wouldn’t want you to be miserable all the time. Same with my dad. I knew him long enough to love him but he died a hero.”

 

Shiro pulls Keith against himself, wraps his arm around Keith’s narrow shoulders. Keith slumps against him. “Damn, this is morbid.”

 

“Kinda.” Shiro hums. “But necessary to talk about. You know, Keith. I’m glad you got your letter.” Even if this is fake. Even if you’re going to dump me after the ski trip. Even if you go back to Lotor.

 

Keith snorts. “Oh, Shiro.” It’s all he says.

 

**

 

One of the cons of being Keith’s fake-boyfriend is the fact that Keith and his circles like to party. Shiro isn’t the partying type, especially the ones that include drunk people trying to sing, flirt and trying not to break things. And these parties are exactly like those. Keith only manages to drag him into one after they have been a sort-of-a thing for weeks.

 

“If you totally hate it, you can just leave early. I’ll even call you a taxi.” When Keith runs his finger down his jaw, how is Shiro supposed to say no?

 

“It’s not like I haven’t been to parties before. I was kind of a stereotypical jackass of a jock a couple of years ago.” Shiro rubs his nose.

 

They make their way into Lotor’s unbearably huge house and into the noise and the music.

 

“You? I wouldn’t think so, looking at you.” Keith nudges him. “Especially with the tie. Come on, lose the fucking tie, baby.”

 

Shiro huffs. “It makes me feel comfortable.”

 

“You look like a 15-year-old space nerd.” Keith tugs said tie, wraps it around his fist and tugs again.

 

Shiro flushes. “As opposed to a 17-year-old one?” His palms are so sweaty. He hopes Keith doesn’t notice. Shiro rolls up his sleeves and messes up his hair, hoping it looks sexy instead of stupid.

 

Keith grins and begins tugging the offending tie - galaxy-coloured, adorned with little planets- off. “I’m keeping this. You’ll get it back after we leave. Or you leave. Whichever you prefer.” He tickles Shiro’s jaw as he pulls the tie away. Keith shoves it into his pocket.

 

Shiro sighs and pulls Keith close to him. “Why do you cramp my style, Kogane?” Shiro pulls out his phone when Keith nudges him to.

 

Keith grins. “Sometimes you dress like a grandpa, Shirogane. Even though you’re hot as fuck. It’s criminal.” His voice is a low, sultry purr that twists Shiro’s insides to knots and makes his throat dry.

 

They snap a selfie where Shiro kisses Keith’s cheek, lets his lips linger a little too long for it to be appropriate.

 

“Damn, we make a cute pair,” Keith murmurs and takes Shiro’s hand in his, drags him into the fray.

 

“That we do,” Shiro whispers, inaudible. He likes the look of their hands together.

 

Inside the party is in full swing. Everywhere Shiro looks he sees his teammates, some surprised to see him, some wolf-whistling at the sight of him walking hand in hand with Keith. Keith claps hands with few of his own friends.

 

Shiro even spots Matt, hunched over a laptop with his baby sister Pidge, who definitely isn’t old enough to drink. Shiro decides not to disturb them. Matt had already teased him enough about Keith, Shiro doesn’t need to hear it in the middle of such a crowd.

 

“Hmm, do you want a drink, big guy?” Keith rubs Shiro’s palm with his thumb before letting go. “Hang around, I’ll get us something.”

 

Shiro nods and rubs his hands together, looking around.

“Finally showed your face, loverboy,” comes a familiar drawl. Shiro turns to see Lance, arm wrapped around the waist of the head cheerleader - and student council vice president and valedictorian and - Allura. Both are holding red cups in their free hands.

“It really is true,” Allura says, her accent somehow even more pronounced now that she’s a little tipsy. “You and Keith Kogane. Never thought I would see that happen. No offence, of course.”

 

Lance fistbumps Shiro. “While I think Keith’s a moody jackass and I’m 100% in love with my lady here - “ Allura huffs, “- you two certainly make a pretty picture.

 

Allura daintily sips her drink. “Just be careful, you two. Lotor is glaring.”

 

Lance rolls his eyes. “Lotor is like a stereotypical Mean Girl-villain. Keith’s doing much better, picking you, man.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Shiro who laughs.

 

“Never thought I’d find myself inside relationship drama,” he admits softly and rubs his neck. Now where is Keith with those drinks? Shiro looks past the happy couple in front of him and finds Lotor indeed staring at him. Not glaring, just staring. The girl next to him - Ezor, Ezra, something - gestures for Shiro cheerily.

 

Shiro blinks. “Uh.”

 

Both Allura and Lance glance behind themselves. “Uh-oh,” Lance says.

 

“Be careful,” Allura says sweetly. “Lotor has a way of getting into your head.” She floats away, taking Lance with him.

 

Shiro steels himself and walks to the couch taken over by Lotor’s posse. There is a space made for him and presumably Keith, right at the corner.

 

“You and Keith, huh?” Lotor purrs. His fabulous, silky hair is tied in an intricate braid. He’s sipping something colourful from a cocktail-glass.

 

“Yeah, what’s up with that,” chirps the preppy Ezor. She’s wearing the bottom half of her cheerleading uniform and a skimpy top that makes Shiro’s gaze jump. “I thought Shirogane was the type to wait until marriage. Because Keith definitely isn’t.” She giggles, high-pitched and utterly irritating.

 

The brisque, large girl on the other side of Ezor chuckles and squeezes her shoulder. “Just wait until Keith leaves you hanging too, Shirogane.”

 

Shiro’s mouth tightens. “I don’t think it’s none of your people’s business.”

 

“So, have you done it?” Ezor asks, leaning forward. “You look like you’d be big so have you made Keith scream yet? Or are you a pillow princess? Or - “

 

“Ezor.”

 

Ezor’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

 

Lotor’s heavy, intense gaze is boring holes through Shiro. “You don’t even kiss. I have a feeling you don’t even have working parts. Or maybe you a good with your hands. Otherwise my Keith wouldn’t even be around you.” There are other words on Lotor’s tongue, meaner, sharper words. Shiro can practically feel them form.

 

His jaw tightens. “I don’t - “

Keith floats into his vision, takes a seat next to him and offers him a mug. “It’s just juice, big guy. I know you’re driving.” Keith is smiling that little half-smile of his, one corner of his mouth turned up like there was a private joke only he knew - that Shiro is privy to. Shiro wants to rub his thumb over that sweet, soft corner.

 

“Thanks, baby,” Shiro murmurs.

 

Keith’s cheeks look flushed. Maybe it’s just the light. “Of course.” Keith takes a sip of his own drink and glances at his ex.

 

“Lotor,” Keith says.

 

“Keith,” Lotor purrs. He starts a conversation with his lackeys and leaves Shiro and Keith alone, pulls up a figurative wall between them like they weren’t sitting on the same damn couch.

 

Shiro sighs. “You were taking so long I almost got worried.”

 

“Saw a few friends,” Keith says and tugs himself neatly under Shiro’s arm. It seems to be his preferred position, as is the one where he throws his legs over Shiro’s lap. “But I didn’t forget. The juice is freshly squeezed.”

 

Keith’s back is warm under Shiro’s hand. He fights against the urge to slip it under Keith’s loose shirt. Shiro takes a sip. “It tastes fresh. Thanks for remembering.” Nuzzling against Keith has become a habit. Keith’s hair always smells so good. “What are you drinking?”

 

Keith hums. “Just beer. Fancy craft beer, mind you. You want a little taste?” Keith’s breath is hot on Shiro’s jaw.

 

Shiro shifts, his lips brushing against Keith’s cheek. “Maybe not. I’ll stick to my lame juice.”

 

Keith snorts. “It’s not lame. If you decide to leave earlier than me, please send me a text when you get home. I’d get worried otherwise.” He sips his drink, empties his red mug entirely.

 

“Of course.”

 

Talking with an increasingly tipsy Keith becomes difficult. Yet more fun. Keith is a giggly, touchy-feely drunk, a far-cry from his usual cool persona. He doesn’t let Shiro go alone anywhere, pushes out his lower lip, makes his pretty eyes wider to make Shiro crumble.

 

“What the hell am I gonna do with you, Kogane?” Shiro tucks a few strands from Keith’s face.

“Kiss me,” Keith whispers, drowsy. They had taken space in the same large couch, Lotor and his posse long since moved on to other places.

 

Shiro’s heart begins to race. Keith is so warm in his arms. Is this really fake anymore? Adam who?

“W-what?” Shiro caresses Keith’s cheek.

 

Keith hums and presses his face tighter against Shiro’s cheek. “Warm.” His voice slurs, his arms and legs tight around Shiro like a baby koala.

 

Shiro sighs. “What the fuck, Keith.”

 

He ends up having to carry a sleeping Keith to his car and taking him home. Krolia takes Keith from his arms with a snort.

“This boy is a disaster,” she says. “Thanks for bringing him home, Shiro. You’re a good one.”

 

Shiro yawns. “I couldn’t leave him there.” He flushes.

 

Krolia chuckles. “Like I said. A good one. Good night and drive safe, kiddo.”

 

“Good night, ma’am.” Good night, Keith.

 

Shiro’s heart races. He’s in trouble. He’s in so much trouble.

 

**

 

Adam finally catches up to Shiro after shameful weeks of avoidance and guilt. In the middle of a crowded school hallway, Keith off in his art class and Matt trying to dodge PE responsibilities, Shiro is all alone.

 

“Can we please finally talk?” Adam’s jaw is tight, his eyes dark with hurt.

 

Shiro’s heart lurches. Throat tight, he nods. He follows Adam out of the main building to the bleachers, fully aware they’re deserted at this time of the day.

 

They take seats, a respectable distance away from each other.

 

“I just wanted you to explain,” Adam starts. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to think.”

 

Shiro sighs, shoulders slumping. “Look. I- I - you were never supposed to see that letter. I didn’t want to avoid you. It just. Sorry. I’m really sorry, Adam.”

 

Adam sighs deeply. “Didn’t we promise to still be friends even though I don’t date Ryou anymore?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah we did.”

 

“Then why this? And this letter… do you still - “

 

Shiro shakes his head. “No! No, not at all. That’s - it’s an old thing.” He flushes. “Dammit. Look, the letters were just a -”

 

“The letters?”

 

“T-there are four. Look. I only wrote them as a way of letting my feelings go. None of you were ever supposed to get them.” He rubs his neck. “I don’t like you like that anymore.” The words slip out easier than he thought. And now he knows they’re true. At some point his feelings for Adam had shifted from romantic affection to a friendly one. At some point Shiro’s heart had started to race for someone else.

 

Adam clears his throat. “But you did when I dated your brother.”

 

Shiro groans. “Yes.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Adam shifts and lets out a little laugh. “Why? It’s not like you tried to ruin my relationship with your brother. You can’t help your feelings. And it seems you’ve moved on anyway.”

 

Shiro flushes. “Y-yeah.”

 

“I just wish you had talked to me.” Adam nudges Shiro until Shiro looks at him. “I know you have a lot on your mind but let’s remember that friends talk to each other, right?” Adam huffs. “I do wonder why Keith Kogane of all people. You do know what kind of a reputation he has, right? He has no respect for authority.”

 

“He’s not like that.” Shiro exhales.

 

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of a guy you would go for.” Adam shrugs. “But if you truly think this guy is right for you, then well. Who am I to prevent you from dating him? I’d prefer to not see you heartbroken, that’s all. Keith Kogane just seems to leave behind a string of broken hearts. You must be his longest relationship by now.”

 

Shiro swallows hard. There are things they hadn’t talked about. Past relationships included: Keith had gotten quiet at that and had quickly changed the subject. “It’s none of my business what he’s done. What matters if how he’s now.”

 

“I guess you’re right. I will trust your judgement.”

 

“You better.”

 

Shiro quickly changes the subject to a class they both share, but his heart is not in it. Why is Adam saying things like these? Just because Shiro does want to be his friend still doesn’t mean Shiro wants to hear shittalk of his current not-boyfriend.

 

“By the way, have you told Ryou?” Adam asks between them sharing earbuds and looking for a good song from his Spotify.

 

“Told Ryou what?” Shiro flushes. There’s another person he should stop avoiding.

 

Adam throws him a look.

 

Shiro clears his throat. “I will. I promise.”

 

“Keep that promise this time, Shiro. Alright?” Adam chooses the right song.

 

Shiro begins nodding his head. “Yeah. I will.”

 

**

 

**

 

The ski trip arrives with the force of a freight train off its rails. Uncontrollable and fast. Before Shiro realizes he’s done with this season’s games and practice entirely and is being shipped off with the rest of his classmates to the mountains.

 

There had been a plan to sit with Keith on the bus, but.

 

Shiro can’t in good conscience do so when he knows Lotor is going after Keith, when Keith isn’t even rejecting him. One conversation heard under the bleachers, with Matt’s shocked face next to him had been enough. Keith doesn’t care about Shiro like that. Has never done so. Despite kissing him, despite holding his hands and leaving him adorable little notes (“Your hair looks nice today.” “Saw you flex and your shirt rip. What’s up with that, Shirogane?”), it had been faker for Keith than for Shiro.

 

Shiro’s heart aches for Keith in a way it has never done for anyone else. Still Shiro shakes his head at Keith who looks oddly stricken and makes his way to Matt, who’s sitting at the further end of the bus.

 

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Matt says amiably and pats Shiro’s bicep. Together they watch as Lotor saunters into the bus as well and forces his way next to Keith.

 

Keith doesn’t look back at them.

 

**

 

The ski-part of the trip isn’t actually mandatory. Shiro despises cold weather so he spends most of his time in the room with Lance and Matt. They talk shit, watch movies, Shiro tries to study but his books are promptly stolen off him and he’s tackled into a ticklish heap to his bed. Nobody brings up Keith for a few nice hours.

 

They all put up sheet masks, as directed by Lance and his clever fingers and his huge stash of skincare-products.

 

“This is a little sad,” Lance says as they have all set down on their beds.

 

“Your face is sad,” Matt grumbles. His eyes are closed.

 

“I’m the happiest boy on the planet, Holt,” Lance huffs. “Anyway. Not talking about you. Talking about you, Shiro. Why are you and your hetero life partner sitting here, doing face masks with a straight guy instead of sucking face with Grumpyface?”

 

Shiro bites his lip. “I think Keith doesn’t want that. I think he’s sucking face with someone else.” The mask feels too stuck to his skin. Idly Shiro yanks at the corner.

 

Matt huffs.

 

Lance snorts. “So it wasn’t Keith I saw moping in the hot tub by himself? I could recognize that stupid mullet anywhere.”

 

“It’s not a mullet,” Shiro says instantly, flushes behind his mask.

 

“Oh god,” Matt sighs.

 

Lance begins tapping on his phone. “Hm. Anyways. I don’t think it’s Lotor he’s waiting for. Everyone knows Lotor lives on the blood of babies and cold water.”

 

Shiro squirms. He cracks his eyes open. “He’s waiting in the hot tub? Really?”

 

Both of his friends stare at him.

 

Shiro stumbles off the bed, leaving the sheet mask behind.

 

The hot tub is actually one of the many, but it’s the small one, a large barrel fit enough for at least seven other people. But now only one of them is occupied.

 

Shiro’s heart stutters.

 

“You look a little lonely,” Shiro says, watches as Keith’s shoulders shift before he turns to look at Shiro.

“You could join me,” Keith murmurs. “It’s cozy.” His shoulders are less broad than Shiro’s, but clearly muscled. Shiro spots what might also be freckles, dusted over his skin.

Shiro smiles. “I didn’t pack my swimming trunks.” He still takes off his bathrobe, lays it neatly on the steps leading to the round hot tub.

“That’s fine. You have a change of clothes in your room, right?” Keith’s eyes look very dark. His smile whispers danger, danger.

Shiro hesitates only for a second before he also pulls off his tank top. All he’s left with are his boxers. “Yeah. Sure I do.” He bites his lip. He climbs to the tub, slides into the bubbling, hot water. A slow exhale as he lowers himself, lets the warm envelope himself.

“Come on closer,” Keith whispers. “It’s warmer here.”

“That’s bullshit,” Shiro whispers back but he does slide closer, closer, until he’s straddling Keith, his fake boyfriend, thighs on either side of Keith.

“Yeah.” Keith smiles. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Shiro inhales deeply. His heart thunders. Laying his hands on Keith’s slim waist seem like the most natural thing to do: like his hands belong there, teasing the edge of Keith’s swimming trunks.

“I’m glad you came with me, Shiro,” Keith whispers. His fingers trail up Shiro’s arms. “Really glad.”

 

Which one leans forward first, it doesn't matter. What matters is the determined push of lips on lips, a shared sigh, the tickle of a tongue.

 

Keith grins when Shiro jolts.

“You have a tongue piercing?” Shiro swallows hard, fingertips pressing harder into Keith’s waist.

“Yeah.” Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck. “You like it?”

Shiro groans and kisses him again, pushes and pushes until what was sweet turns sensual, until what was innocent turns hot.

 

Yet their hands never stray below the waist.

 

Shiro could grow addicted to Keith’s mouth, to feeling Keith’s slender muscles quiver under his exploring hands. It takes every ounce of willpower to not let them wander further down. Shiro can only hope Keith feels the same.

  


They don’t talk, they just kiss and kiss until their lips are aching and raw and still they share more pecks, take back all the time they have lost in this fake relationship, trying to pretend the air isn’t sizzling between them.

 

They help each other out of the tub and politely ignore anything going on below the waist. If Shiro had let his gaze or his hands wander, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to control himself. Like this, lips kissed to high heavens, black hair wet and chest heaving, Keith has never looked more beautiful.

 

Hand in hand, they make their way back inside, both clad in their bathrobes and towels around their shoulders. They don’t run into anyone else.

 

Shiro knows they should talk, properly. But not now. Not right now.

 

Good night, Shiro.” Keith’s teeth dig into his plush lip. His hair is curling attractively around his slim jaw.

 

Shiro’s heart thuds. He grasps the front of his shirt and exhales deep, does his best to prevent himself from walking to Keith and pulling him to Shiro’s room. “Good night, Keith,” he whispers.

 

The smile Keith gives him is going to warm him up for days. His own smile lingers on his face until he falls asleep, trying not to scream with joy into his pillow. He dreams of Keith’s kisses.

 

They pack up and leave  once all skiing and relationship drama is done for. Shiro is flustered to hear all the clapping once he climbs into the bus.

“Shut the fuck up, guys,” he huffs and shoves off a few of his teammates and classmates. Some of them wolf-whistle and Shiro groans. Matt is snickering in the backseat, wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully. He glances at Keith, sitting alone. Shiro flushes.

 

Go! Matt mouths.

 

Shiro swallows. “This seat taken?”

 

Keith lifts his pretty eyes to him. “For you, yes.” He pats the seat and lowers his phone.

 

Shiro bites his lip and sits down. “You didn’t tell anyone about … last night?”

 

Keith blinks. “Of course not. Everyone’s just animals. And surprised to see the ever-elusive Shirogane dating.” His smile eases up Shiro’s worry.

 

“S-so how did you sleep?”

 

Something dark shifts into Keith’s eyes. “Pretty badly. Would have slept better with you next to me,” Keith whispers and takes Shiro’s arm, wraps it around his shoulders. “So I’m going to use you as my pillow.”

 

Shiro smiles so hard his cheeks hurt. “Of course. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

 

Keith smiles too.

 

**

 

They sleep through most of the journey, share earbuds by the last few kilometres and squeeze each other’s hands until it hurts. A niggling little doubt still gnaws at Shiro’s insides but he tries to push it down. Keith has to like him for real. Keith wouldn’t have kissed him like that otherwise.

“Wait a moment, big guy, I have someone I have to talk to for a second.” Keith’s hand slips off his.

 

Shiro waves after him before heading off to find his luggage. He should probably get a new one soon, this one’s pretty much falling apart. Shiro hums to himself as he prepares to leave, before almost running into someone.

 

“Excuse me,” that someone says.

 

Shiro blinks.

 

Lotor is smiling. Shiro almost expects razor-sharp teeth to flash when his thin lips part. “It was sweet of you to finally join the trip, Shirogane. I hope you had a fun time.” Lotor inspects his nails.

 

Shiro blinks. “Uh. Sure. I had fun.”

 

Lotor flips his hair from his shoulder. He tugs off the topmost button of his jacket. “I just wanted to say it’s very nice of you to be so trusting when it comes to me being on speaking terms with Keith. After all, you don’t just toss away months and months of an intense relationship like ours is one night.”

 

Shiro blinks again and frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

“I merely mean that most people wouldn’t be so happy to find out that their boyfriends spent the night in their exes’ rooms.” Slowly Lotor unbuttons a few more of his jacket, revealing a very familiar tie.

 

Everything inside Shiro freezes. “Where did you get that? And w-what? Keith did?”

 

Lotor grins and pulls out the tie. “Oh this old thing? Just something Keith gave to me a long time ago. It’s very sweet of him.” He flips his hair again. “Anyway, I must dash. Nice talking to you, Shirogane.” He says it in a tone that tells Shiro that it was not nice to be in the same space as Shiro at all.

 

Shiro grits his teeth.

 

His good mood has all but evaporated when Keith returns to him, reaching for his hand. Shiro keeps it out of Keith’s reach.

“Is this - was last night a joke to you, Keith?” Shiro swallows hard. “You went to Lotor’s room for the night? Really? And gave him my tie? I know it’s stupid but it’s mine. It has a lot of value.”

 

Keith’s mouth drops open. “I- I did go to his room but - “ His hand falls.

 

Shiro crosses his arms. Using his height and size to his advantage to keep Keith off is unfair but it’s better than showing how Shiro’s heart is cracking.

“This is over, Keith. This should have been over ages ago.”

 

“Shiro, please, let me explain, it’s not what you think.” Keith is wringing his hands. His lips, the same ones Shiro had kissed last evening, are bitten raw.

 

“I think I understand perfectly.” Shiro swallows hard. “This is over. Just… don’t talk to me.” He turns around and feels how hot tears begin to sting his eyes.

 

Keith doesn’t call out after him.

 

**

 

Returning home is a relief. The house is already decked out for Christmas, lights hanging from windows, even the tree set up in the corner, already decorated. Shiro has to smile at the sight of it. Wider his smile gets when Sven barges into him.

 

“You’re home!”

 

“Hi, kiddo!” Shiro squeezes his baby brother tight and rubs his back. “How’s it going? This seems like a lot of work for just you and dad.”

 

Sven pulls back from his hug and grins. “Guess who’s back.”

 

“Hi, bro.”

 

Shiro’s mouth drops open, Keith’s betrayal all but forgotten. He turns. Ryou winks at him from the stairs, chuckles when Shiro barges into him, wrapping him into a tight hug.

 

“What the fuck, are you crying, geez, it’s not like I’ve been away for more than a few months,” Ryou huffs but his eyes are wet too as he squeezes Shiro tighter.

“Shut up, you,” Shiro huffs and refuses to part from the embrace for the longest time.

 

The brothers start making cookies and brownies as they wait for their dad to return. Ryou tells them of his time overseas and never brings up Shiro’s weird behaviour on Skype. When the subject of Adam comes up, Sven lets the name Keith slip up.

 

Shiro freezes.

 

Ryou narrows his eyes. “Keith?”

 

Before Shiro can manage to stutter out a response, there is a loud, determined knock on the door.

 

The brothers share a look. Shiro rubs his neck. “I- I’ll get it.” His heart races, his palms feel clammy as he walks to their door and unlocks it. If it was dad, he would have just unlocked it by himself.

 

But it’s Keith instead, looking unfairly ethereal in his leather jacket and in his hoodie. He looks miserable.

“Can we talk?”

Shiro sighs. “Okay.” He hesitates. “Let’s… Let’s go outside.” His tongue seems to refuse to work around Keith, even now. He leads Keith outside, pushes the door closed after them.

 

Keith’s jaw is clenched and he’s frowning, but he’s looking straight at Shiro. That’s one of the reasons to like Keith Kogane: he’s straightforward to the point of being blunt.

 

“Nothing happened between me and Lotor. I don’t know what he said to you, but nothing, and I mean nothing, happened.” Keith stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Believe me.”

 

Shiro keeps an arm’s length between them. “It’s enough that you went to his room. You didn’t have to. But you still did. I know you guys have history but -”

 

“Yes. That’s the point. Those feelings don’t just disappear, that history just doesn’t disappear.”

 

“I don’t want to be a joke or a fake to you,” Shiro whispers. Keith’s mouth snaps shut. “I don’t want to be second best or a second choice. I just don’t. I deserve better than that.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers. “Last night was not a mistake. You don’t get it.”

 

“What I don’t get? It was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake.” Shiro shifts weight from one foot to another, even takes a half a step back. “I’m sorry I wrote you a dumb letter and you found it and I’m sorry I even agreed to this, I just - all the people clapping and wolf-whistling at me on the bus? You know how that feels? I’m, I know what my teammates think of guys my age who haven’t had sex yet. It’s important to me that it’s private. I want it to be private.”

 

“So do I,” Keith whispers, voice cracking. “Let me explain, I swear it’s not like what you think -”

 

“Can you just leave, Keith. Please.”

 

Keith shifts, his teeth digging into his lip. “Can we just talk about this, Shiro? Could you at least hear me out?” He crosses his arms.

 

Shiro looks at the ground. “Please leave.”

 

“Shiro - “

 

“I think he asked you to leave.”

Shiro’s stomach drops. Adam is just one more hitch in his gear right now. “Not now, Adam,” Shiro tries but Adam isn’t listening. Instead he steps next to Shiro, glaring at Keith.

 

All softness and sadness vanishes from Keith’s face instantly, to be replaced by cool distance. “I see. I see. So you’re still in love with this guy, huh?”

 

Shiro opens and closes his mouth, trying to quell his panic.

 

“Maybe he broke things off with you because he’s too damn good for you,” Adam says, his voice chilly. “You’re a dropout, after all and Shiro’s on his way to a good college.”

 

None of them have heard the door opening.

 

“Is that true, Takashi?” Ryou’s voice cracks. He has a face of sadness Shiro never wants his twin to make again. “Are you in love with Adam?”

 

All of them freeze.

 

Shiro can feel the hole under his feet getting bigger. He shakes his head, vehemently. “No, I’m not!” It’s Keith, it’s Keith I’m in love with, can’t you see, but I can’t. I can’t do this. “Ryou-” but Ryou’s hands curl into fists and he marches back in, slamming the door after him. Sven peeks at them through his fingers.

 

Adam struggles for words. Keith struggles for action.

 

“Go home, the both of you,” Shiro whispers. He puts his hand on Sven’s shoulder. “Just… go home.”

 

“You were never second best,” is all Keith manages before he retreats first, pulling his hood up.

 

“He wasn’t supposed to be home yet,” Adam whispers.

 

Shiro’s jaw clenches. “Surprise.” It’s all he says as he leads Sven back in. To no one’s surprise, the kitchen is now empty, the door to Ryou’s room closed.

 

Shiro’s guilt gnaws at him.

 

He paces in his own room, curses into his pillow, tosses said pillow to the floor. He picks it up. He rips up the very short list of rules him and Keith had made. He cleans up his room. He cleans it again and doesn’t go down to his father and Sven who are probably having a nice time with everything the brothers had began to bake earlier.

 

Shiro groans. He marches across the hall to his brother’s door and knocks.

 

“Ryou, can we talk?”

“I’m busy.”

 

Shiro’s forehead thuds against the door. “Please. I just wanna explain things.” He knocks again. The door isn’t locked, but it’s just courtesy to wait.

 

And he waits.

 

Then Ryou shuffles, walks to the door. It opens with a creak and Shiro is met with Ryou’s displeased face, a mirror image of his own with only minor differences.

 

“So explain.” Ryou is packing his suitcase or unloading it, he’s shifting around his room like he doesn’t quite belong in there anymore. “I thought - are you in love with Adam?”

 

“No!” Shiro sits down on his brother’s bed. “Absolutely not. I’m not. Keith was just - Keith’s just mistaken.”

 

Ryou looks at him. “I thought you wanted to date Adam. Like you were just waiting for me to leave or something.”

 

Shiro’s heart sinks. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I know neither of you even wanted to break up in the first place.” He swallows hard. “Anyway, it’s not Adam I want to date.”

 

The bed creaks as Ryou sits down next to him. “I see. Keith, huh?”

 

That’s the word that gets it all pouring out of Shiro. He admits to the letters, all four of them, from various points of his life. He admits to the fake dating that turned into real dating, his heart cracks at knowing Keith is out of his reach, probably back to Lotor’s arms by now - even though the look in Keith’s eyes before he had left is carved into Shiro’s heart - and Shiro won’t get to kiss him again.

 

“Oh, you dumbass,” Ryou whispers and hugs him tight.

 

Shiro’s eyes are wet. “Fuck.”

 

“That’s one word for it,” comes a new voice from the doorway. Sven is looking unusually solemn as he closes the door behind himself and comes sit down too. “I gotta admit something and please don’t get mad, Shiro.”

 

Shiro rubs his eyes. “What?”

 

Ryou is between them, expectant, arm still around Shiro’s shoulders.

 

Sven squirms. “I can’t hold it in anymore, I, uh, I sent the letters!”

 

Ryou blinks. Shiro blinks. He groans. “You little - did you know what you’ve done!” He jumps up from the bed, but so does Ryou, keeping a calming hand on his chest.

 

Sven jumps back, sniffling. “Y-you were just so unhappy all the time and living with your head in your romance novels and all-!”

 

Shiro makes a lunge for him, but Ryou stops him in his track, shushing him. “Why did you send all four! Wasn’t one good enough!”

 

“I-I figured at least one of them would get back to you or something! And I don’t know if you got it but you’ve been so happy when you’ve been with Keith!” It’s a reasonable argument for a ten-year-old.

 

Shiro shivers. “I-” He sighs, shoulders slumping.

 

“You calm down, bro?” Ryou pats his back.

 

Shiro nods. “I’m mad at you for snooping through my things, Sven. But - I guess- I guess I have to admit some part of me wished they would see those dumbass letters.” He sighs and inhales deeply twice, until his heart stops drumming like mad. “Not like this though.”

 

“Sorry,” Sven whispers meekly.

 

Ryou ruffles his hair. “It’s still weird you wrote my ex a love letter, but eh. It happens.”

 

“It doesn’t, but good that you understand, I guess?” Shiro runs his fingers through his hair and groans. “Jesus. This autumn has been a damn mess.”

 

“It’s obvious you crash and burn without me, dear brother,” Ryou says and pats his shoulder.

 

“That I do.”

 

**

 

Christmas is spent with a great number of gifts and food. Hiroshi lets even Sven stay up as late as he wants, which end up being until eleven o’clock when Sven’s head slumps against Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro carries his baby brother to his room.

 

Ryou doesn’t bring up the letters and Shiro doesn’t bring up Adam. It’s a mutual agreement that lasts over the entire holiday until it’s time to return to school and time for Ryou to return overseas. Shiro promises to chat with him more, now that it’s all clear between them.

 

It’s with that more cheerful mood that Shiro returns to school, highfiving Matt and even making finger guns right back at Lance, still apparently happy together with his cheerleading lady Allura.

 

That cheerful mood lasts for a total of fifteen seconds, right until Shiro and Matt make it to Shiro’s locker, surrounded by a small crowd.

“What now,” Shiro whispers as he shoves himself through the people.

 

His heart sinks.

 

Matt hisses a quiet fuck next to him.

 

On Shiro’s locker is a picture: Shiro and Keith, quite obviously them, pressed together in the hot tub, tongue-deep in what’s clearly a sensual kiss. Scribbled under the picture are the words: finally the virgin captain is getting some ;) ; ;)

 

Shiro inhales, panicked.

 

Matt yanks off the picture, glares daggers at the people around them and slowly they inch away, but Shiro can practically see their questions, their amusement. All the stares and attention he’s gotten has always gotten under his skin but this is too much.

 

Without thinking about it, he turns back on his heel and marches off, angry and embarrassed. He nearly barges into Keith, who holds up his hands, looking stupidly cute and like he just rolled out of bed. Goddammit, but Shiro’s heart stutters at the mere sight of him.

 

“Are you happy now? The whole school probably thinks we had sex in that stupid ski trip!” Shiro says before he can stop himself. He withdraws from Keith’s reaching hand.

 

“W-what? Hey, Shiro!”

 

But Keith doesn’t listen. Instead he barges away. Matt walks after him, shoving the crumbled picture in Keith’s hands. “Nice going, Kogane. You have a real shit way of showing your appreciation to him. Maybe do something about this.”

 

Keith unfolds the picture. His jaw tightens. He knows exactly who’s behind this. He raises his voice, makes even Shiro stop and look back. “Everyone who has shit to say about Shiro can come straight to me. We didn’t have sex, not that it’s any of your damn business. If I hear another word or see anything like this, I will kick every single one of your asses. You hear me?” He’s an avenging angel like this, haloed by the sun filtering through the windows, slender and tall and heart-achingly handsome.

 

The students share looks and whispers and make way, leave Shiro’s locker alone.

 

Shiro glances at Keith and nods.

 

Keith shrugs desperately and watches him go.

 

**

 

It’s not hard to find Lotor. Wherever Lotor goes, either his posse is around or there’s no one, like he had had to only order people out to be left alone. Now he’s holed up in one of the bathrooms, probably pampering his hair. Not that Shiro cares much.

 

Shiro slams the door closed behind himself.

 

“What’s wrong with you, Lotor?”

 

Lotor runs his brush through his hair. “Whatever do you mean, Shirogane?”

 

Shiro’s jaw clenches. “Really, a picture and some mean words on my locker? Are you five?”

 

Lotor smiles sweetly. “Nope. Wasn’t me. But I’m glad someone did it. Makes you seem less like a golden boy, right?”

 

Shiro runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t get you. We used to be friends.”

 

The corner of Lotor’s mouth twitches. “Used to. I don’t want to be friends with a whore. Kissing a boy I like. Then this-”

 

“What? Are you - are you talking about when we were ten?”

 

Lotor’s gaze sharpens. “You always get everything, Shirogane. Why do you have to get him too?”

 

Shiro sighs. “You’re unbelievable. Please grow up.” He gets out of the bathroom before he blurts out anything he’s going to regret. His head aches. His heart aches. How did his life become such a damn mess? Maybe Keith is out of his reach but Adam shouldn’t be. At least Shiro could have his friend back.

 

He taps out a message to Adam, asking him to come over after school.

 

Adam replies with a short, tense ok.

 

Shiro plays hooky for the rest of the day, too anxious and wired up to do much except pace. He does participate in the afternoon practice but most of his shots are off and he’s benched - him, the captain! He gets friendly punches on his shoulders for that and five meaningful texts from Matt, all telling him that he’s being a dumbass.

 

Yet when Shiro makes it home at the right time, ready to finally talk with Adam properly, he starts to feel better.

 

“Thanks for coming over, Adam,” he says as they take a seat in the living room.

 

“Of course. I said a lot of things I regret.” Adam adjusts his glasses. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Shiro says and smiles. “I miss my best friend, you know. I thought - well, when I wrote that letter, those feelings were real. At least I thought they were. I wouldn’t have done anything, I love my brother and I love you. But I don’t think I got how different it could feel like before I … before Keith.”

 

Adam hums. “Maybe you should have told me this in the first place.”

 

“Maybe I should have.”

 

“Are you in love with him then? Keith?”

 

Shiro sighs. He knows the answer, has known it for weeks. His heart feels so full and warm. “I- I miss him,” he says instead.

 

“So why don’t you tell him then?”

 

Shiro sighs even deeper, his head slumping forward. “I don’t think he feels the same. I don’t think it was as real to him as it was to me. It’s just. I don’t know.”

 

“You’re a mess,” Adam says and amiably pats his back.

 

Shiro chuckles. “I’d love to get a love letter. I don’t want to sit in my room all day writing them, never sending them. Why doesn’t anyone pine for me then? Why doesn’t Keith?”

 

Adam clears his throat.

 

Shiro straightens and sees Sven, standing in front of him. Sven is holding a familiar red box. “I think you should open this,” Sven says, his smile tiny and careful.

 

Shiro takes the box and opens it. It’s full of little notes, carefully folded and scrawled in Keith’s familiar, messy handwriting. Shiro’s heart begins to race. He looks at his little brother. “You saved them?”

 

Sven smiles. “I figured you’d want to look at them at some point. I didn’t want you to throw them out.”

 

Carefully, like handling sacred artefacts, Shiro takes the top note. It says: “Your hair looked very soft today. I love how you close your eyes when I run my fingers through it.” The next one says ‘i know it’s a cliché but your smile really lights up the room.’ And the next one says ‘you could benchpress me and I’d say thank you.’ That one makes Shiro giggle.

 

Before he can take another one, he lifts his head. Adam is smiling, one eyebrow tilted. Sven is biting his cheek to not laugh.

 

“I’d say those are pretty much like love letters,” Adam remarks softly.

 

Shiro puts the lid back on the box. “I think… I think I need to go have a chat with Keith.”

 

“We’ll be fine here,” Adam waves him off. “I still have a record in Mario Kart that I need to beat.”

“More like you need to beat me,” Sven says and takes Shiro’s place on the couch.

 

Shiro takes off, heart beating, heart thundering so loud. He drives off, his hands shaking as he grips the steering wheel tight. Keith, his heart sings. Does Keith love him too?

 

At this time of the day, Keith can almost certainly be found in the art class, doing his after school practice or finishing up his daily artwork. So that’s where Shiro goes. He’s forgotten his jacket but it’s alright, it’s okay, he’s flushed with all the exertion and excitement by the time he finds the art class and finds Keith, the only one in the room, a bandana around his head, keeping his hair from his face, wearing filthy overalls and elbow deep in something that looks like the mixture of child’s fingerpainting and a Jackson Pollock.

 

Keith’s eyes widen at the sight of him. “Shiro.”

 

Shiro inhales deeply and smiles at him. “Keith. I really need to say something to you.” He remembers the close the door behind them as he comes to Keith, keeps less than an arm’s length between them.

 

Keith looks more vulnerable like this: make up free, jewellery-free. There is a paint smudge on his cheek. “I thought -” Keith begins. “What is it?”

 

Oh. Keith’s not letting himself hope. Shiro takes one of those paint-splattered hands between his own. “Keith. Keith Kogane. I - I like you. I want you to know that. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

 

Keith blinks, opening and closing his mouth but not letting a single sound out.

 

Shiro flushes and withdraws. “T-that’s all I -”

 

“Wait!” Keith hurries to wash his hands, leaving them spotty and damp, wringing a stack of paper towels between them. “Please just - I - I went to Lotor’s room that time to tell him that it’s over, it’s over for good and it’s never going to happen because.” He tosses the paper towels to the trash. He takes Shiro’s hand between his own. “I’ve been in love with you, Takashi Shirogane, for weeks.”

 

Shiro’s heart bursts into rainbow-coloured confetti. No, the entire world does. He blinks hard at the sudden moisture in his eyes. “You do?”

 

Keith laughs. “Yes, you big goof. I thought I was fucking obvious.”

 

“You love me,” Shiro whispers, breathless. He shifts closer. He has to crane his neck to look down on Keith, but Keith’s smiling.

“Are you going to break my heart, Shirogane?” Keith whispers against his lips. His fingers curl on Shiro’s hips, probably staining Shiro’s shirt with paint smudges for good.

 

“Nah,” Shiro whispers and finally, finally, finally kisses Keith, kisses his prince who was only waiting for the right moment to appear.


End file.
